Ignite
by Smexi-MnM's
Summary: Two sisters stir up trouble in the court of Henry VIII. The daring Charlise finds happiness - but when tragedy strikes, she learns that love sometimes comes at a cost. The introverted Emilia earns the attention of a notorious womanizer determined to conquer her - yet soon both find themselves fighting to keep what they have. Anthony Knivert/OC/Edward Seymour; Charles Brandon/OC.
1. The Ruston Girls

**Chapter One: The Ruston Girls**

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**A/N: Hey everyone, this is our first attempt at a Tudors fic, so please let us know what you think!**

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King Henry VIII leant back in his chair as he watched the celebrations whirl around him in arrays of colours and bodies dancing. He sipped his wine, the sweet but bitter wine trickling down his throat, quenching his thirst. He chuckled as he watched his friend, Charles Brandon, flirting with many girls around the place. It seemed his friend never put an end to his games that he played with women's hearts.

"Are you enjoying the feast, my King?" Lord Peter Ruston questioned the King as he sat beside him. He had been conversing with him regularly as of late.

"Of course." Henry turned to Lord Ruston before glancing back out across the room, noting that Lord Ruston's youngest daughter appeared to be beside her sister. "I hear your daughter is back from the French court."

"Emilia? Yes." Lord Ruston nodded his head, watching his two children. He had wished Emilia to stay in France, but their mother had insisted she come to England to be with Charlise.

"Have you found her a husband yet?" Henry questioned him. He knew that both of the Ruston girls were beautiful and was surprised to see them without a husband.

Lord Ruston shook his head, leaning back in the chair to survey the room. "Not yet. Not until I find a match for Charlise."

"Is it proving hard?" Henry raised an eyebrow.

"She is somewhat troublesome. Charming enough when she wants to be, but too spirited for the liking of most." Lord Ruston informed him, his voice taking on a somewhat bitter tone. "I will find someone for her."

Henry chuckled, knowing his words to be true, "That you will.'

* * *

Charlise Ruston flitted about the ballroom, talking to several other noblewomen. Her golden blonde hair cascaded in waves down her back and her brown eyes glittered with excitement. Celebrations were common in the English court, but Charlise was always enthralled by them. Part of the reason for her excitement was that her younger sister Emilia was back from the French court, where she had resided with their mother for the past ten years.

Not that their father, Peter Ruston, had anything good to say about the matter. In his eyes, Charlise had always been the better one. Charlise was a radiant beauty, Emilia was passably pretty. Charlise was witty and intellectual, Emilia might be of average intelligence. These were the things he was prone to saying, but Charlise had always felt that there was no true reason for her being held up on a pedestal, apart from the fact that Lord Ruston saw a lot of himself in her.

"Emilia." Charlise walked across to her sister, a brunette young woman of seventeen. The two had the same brown eyes and almost doll-like features, but that was where all similarity between the girls ended. Charlise was known for being outgoing and charming, although she could be manipulative and shallow when the need arose. Emilia was quiet and introverted, preferring to keep to her books and her piano.

"Charlise." Emilia smiled at her sister.

"Enjoying yourself?" Charlise glanced around. Although she lived in England with their father, she had often visited the French court to see her sister and her mother. Like Emilia, she was bilingual, fluently speaking both French and English due to having a French mother and English father.

"I prefer the French court," Emilia confessed, and Charlise knew that her sister must miss what had become her true home. "But yes, it is enjoyable here."

"The French court is far more colourful," Charlise agreed. Their father did not like the French court. Perhaps it was because Lord Ruston was too attached to England.

"It is indeed." Emilia smiled.

Charlise winked knowingly. "And the men far less sober."

Emilia couldn't help but laugh. Charlise had been known for her flirtations, although due her high station she hadn't been too outrageous. However, Emilia was admittedly aware that her older sister was no virgin.

"It is good to be back here with you, sister."

Charlise pulled a face. "Father seems adamant that I remain in England."

"He favours you more," Emilia said quietly, a fact that neither of them could deny. Lord Ruston made no secret of his clear preferences towards Charlise, hence why he had practically ignored Emilia during her ten years in France.

Charlise waved a dismissive hand. "He just wants me to marry an English man because _he_ is English."

"Mother would prefer us to marry French men." Emilia smiled a little. "Not that I would mind."

Charlise tossed back her blonde hair. "I don't want to marry."

"You will have to one day," Emilia informed her, as Charlise pulled a distasteful face. "I doubt it will be as bad you think."

She had made it no secret, not even to their father, that she had no wish to be caged by a man. At the same time, Charlise was painfully aware that being a woman was a hindrance, and that she would be married off whether by her will or not. She was already nineteen years old; Lord Ruston would not see her become an old maid.

"Perhaps," Charlise replied smoothly.

Emilia smiled and took her arm. "Come, we should go see if we can find some men to dance with."

Charlise's demeanour immediately brightened and she laughed. "Now that sounds more fun!"

However, after making the rounds with her arm linked through Emilia's, it became clear that most of the men were too far in their cups to bother dancing with. Charlise frowned slightly as she glanced around.

"The men here aren't too much fun."

"They all drink and look around for a whore here," Emilia said disdainfully, smiling as she reminisced of France. "The French love to dance."

"I remember." The ghost of a smile crossed Charlise's lips. "It's been a few years, but I remember."

* * *

Anthony Knivert sat sipping his wine as he watched the girls dance and the men flirt. His long time friend, Charles Brandon sat beside him, checking out the women around the room. Anthony knew he was hopeful to find one to bed, regardless of whether she had been bedded before or not. Charles was notorious for his flirting and for taking the virginity of many women in court.

"Any catch your eye?"

"Oh, there are MANY that catch my eye, my friend." Charles grinned in answer to his question, his blue eyes sparkling.

Anthony couldn't help but chuckle at his friends words, "Any in particular?"

"Not really." Charles sighed, watching Anthony as he sipped his wine before glancing towards his Majesty, noticing Lord Peter Ruston beside him. "I see old Lord Ruston is back though."

"Doesn't he have two young daughters?" Anthony questioned, he knew of Charlise, but he was sure there was a younger, although the name passed from his mind.

Charles raised an eyebrow, glancing at his friend, "Depends what you'd call young."

Anthony ran a hand through his hair, "Under twenty years."

"How far under twenty years?" Charles grinned, eyeing one of the women dancing.

"I think one is seventeen and the other nineteen." Anthony pondered, unsure of their exact ages.

Charles laughed, sipping his own wine, "Where are you finding out all of this?"

"Women talk." Anthony shrugged, watching the women dance around.

Charles chuckled, nodding his head, "They do. Too much."

Anthony chuckled, noticing Charlise Ruston wandering around with someone who looked like her, although the other girl had brown hair and was smaller and less curvy. He assumed that was Charlise's younger sister, whose name had escaped him. He hadn't seen her around very often and was curious as to when she arrived in court.

"Perhaps you should go and find yourself a woman." Anthony suggested as Charles sipped his wine.

"Maybe you should find yourself a man." Charles smirked, watching as Anthony shook his head, a smile dancing at his lips.

"I think you are talking to the wrong friend about that." Anthony pointed out, grinning.

"Then find a woman." Charles laughed, shaking his head.

Anthony crossed his arms over his chest, his demeanor turning more serious, "I am not like you."

"Then perhaps you should find one to marry if you're to be so honourable about it." Charles told him, finishing his wine.

Anthony sighed, glancing at his friend, "They are all too ambitious here in court."

"Would you prefer a mousy little one?" Charles smirked, knowing his friend was rather picky when it came to the women he courted.

Anthony nodded, "Easier to control."

"Ah, so you want one you can control?" Charles chuckled, after all the years he'd known Anthony and he was still learning things.

Anthony turned to his friend, 'Don't you?"

"Not particularly. The wild ones are fun, especially in bed." Charles refilled his goblet of wine, taking a sip.

"I think the Ruston girls are headed our way." Anthony noticed Charlise walking towards them, her sister by her side.

"Then ask one to dance." Charles encouraged.

"Alright, I will." Anthony crossed over to Charlise. He had seen the young woman around the place before – laughing, dancing, flirting – but he knew little more than her name and the fact that she had once visited Charles's bed. "Would you care to dance, my lady?"

Charlise laughed easily. "But of course, Mr Knivert."

Anthony took her arm and led her off, spinning her as they reached the dancefloor. He put an arm around her waist and pulled her close as she watched him with amused brown eyes. She knew that Anthony was a good friend of his Majesty's, tall and fairly handsome with dark hair and blue eyes.

"I wasn't aware you were fond of dancing," she remarked. Charlise had rarely seen Anthony dance with a woman and it caused her to turn mischievous and poke fun. "Has wine made you more daring?"

"Perhaps," Anthony acknowledged with a smile of his own. "Or perhaps the beautiful woman in my arms made me more daring."

Charlise couldn't help but laugh at that. She was used to being complimented, but she found that flattery slipped far too easily off the tongues of men. Being treated like you were special didn't mean you _were_ special to them. Charlise had learned that lesson at fifteen after letting Charles Brandon take her virtue.

"You flatter me."

"But it's true," Anthony insisted.

"There are women far fairer than me in this room," Charlise informed him, glancing around. Even now, the Lady Anne was dallying with the King. Anthony spun her once more and she twirled before coming back into his arms.

"Yet it was you caught my eye," Anthony responded, catching her by the waist.

She raised an eyebrow. "And why might that be?"

"You seem to have more spirit," he replied. Charlise seemed to be a very lively young woman, perhaps more daring than many of the other women at court. She looked sceptical about what he said, though, and he knew her to be no fool who was easily charmed.

"I assumed most men didn't like a woman who spoke her mind," Charlise stated.

Anthony shrugged. "It depends on who the woman is and what she says."

She examined him thoughtfully. "How old are you, Mr Knivert?"

"Thirty-one," he responded, knowing that it was a fair amount older than her own nineteen years.

"Old enough to be married," Charlise said, but she knew better than to cast around for a Mrs Knivert. If Anthony was married she doubted he would be flirting with her so openly.

"Yet I am not."

"Oh?" Charlise arched an eyebrow. Now she was curious as to the reason for this. "Why is that?"

"Because I have never seen a woman I desire to marry," Anthony said simply.

"Well, for a start, you can't tell just by _seeing_ a woman," Charlise reprimanded, causing him to chuckle, "You have to get to know them first."

"Perhaps you are right," Anthony agreed. Charlise seemed to be an independent and intelligent woman, although he knew that growing up under the watchful gaze of a politically-minded man such as Lord Ruston could never be a good thing.

"I am often right." Charlise smiled, although the joy from her face faded when she noticed a certain man had approached Emilia. "Your friend Charles seems to be flirting with my sister."

"He's harmless until he gets women alone," Anthony confided, something Charlise knew all too well. "He is very flirtatious towards women and breaks their hearts easily."

Charlise shook her head slowly. "Yes, I know what Charles can be like."

"Your sister should be more careful," Anthony warned, glancing over at the pair, "She seems the kind to be played with."

"Perhaps," Charlise replied, although she didn't think Emilia was a fool. "I doubt she would let Charles do anything with her though."

"What makes you say that?" Anthony inquired.

Charlise shrugged. "She cares for her virtue."

"Not many women do here in court," Anthony admitted, thinking of Charles boasting of his many conquests.

She nodded. "That is true."

"And how come you are not married, Charlise?" he inquired, causing her to tilt her head back so that she could look at him sharply.

"That is a bit of a bold question, Anthony."

He smiled slightly. "Are you going to answer it?"

Charlise pressed her lips together. "Because I do not want to be married."

"Why is that?" Anthony asked. Wasn't it something known throughout the world, that women married and bore sons for their husbands? Perhaps Charlise just refused to accept the inevitable.

"I have no desire to be at the beck and call of a man I doubt I will even like," Charlise responded coolly, tugging herself from his arms.

* * *

Charles glanced at Anthony as he danced with Charlise before turning to her younger sister, "So, you're the sister from the French court."

"Yes." Emilia nodded, watching her sister carefully.

"What is your name?" Charles asked, examining her. She was pretty with soft features.

"Emilia." Emilia smiled, taking in Charles' features for the first time. He had curly brown hair that was slightly shaggy as well as blue eyes.

Charles grabbed her hand, bending his head to place a light kiss to the back of her hand, "I am Charles Brandon."

Emilia watched, her eyes sparkling with warmth, "Pleasure to meet your acquaintance."

"Do you get along well with your sister?" Charles questioned, following her gaze as he noticed her watching Charlise and Anthony.

Emilia nodded, her eyes remaining on her sister. "Yes, although it has been years since we have seen each other."

"How long have you been at the French court?" Charles inquired, sipping his wine and continuing to watch Emilia for he found her interesting him.

"Ten years." Emilia informed him, turning back to face him, her brown hair flouncing around her shoulders as she did.

"Did she visit often? I know she tends to move back and forth." Charles sat down, gesturing for Emilia to sit beside him, smiling when she did.

"Often enough." Emilia smiled, recalling many times when her sister had visited and she had spent some time with her. She missed her sister greatly and was happy to be in England to spend time with her.

Charles nodded, sipping his wine and handing a goblet to Emilia. "I have been to the French court myself."

"It is a lively place." Emilia mused as she sipped her wine, glancing around at the somewhat dull celebrations.

"It is very." Charles agreed, leaning back in his chair.

Emilia sipped her wine as she looked around the place. She was already missing her home and its vibrant colours. She also missed the music and the dance. Everything was so foreign to her and it made her slightly uncomfortable. She could feel Charles watching her as she finished her wine, pouring some more into her goblet.

"You like drinking." Charles noted, watching as she sipped her second goblet-full of wine.

"I'm used to it." Emilia smiled for drinking was a large part of her culture.

"What else are you used to?" Charles smirked, his voice lowering to a seductive tone.

Emilia raised an eyebrow, her answer cryptic, "A great many thing."

"Are you a virgin, Lady Ruston?" Charles asked, playing with a strand of her hair.

Emilia raised an eyebrow, watching him carefully. "Why is it that you wish to know?"

"Curiosity." Charles sipped his wine, his eyes raking over her slender form.

Emilia nodded, "Yes, I am."

"Ah, a virtuous young noblewoman." Charles grinned, it was rare to find one in the English court. "Well your sister is most certainly not among them."

"I did know that, but how did you know?" Emilia questioned, curious as to how much he knew of her sister.

Charles winked at her, "I rid her of that particular problem. I could rid you of yours, if you would like."

Emilia looked him square in the eyes, her gaze hardening to a frosty stare, "I'm sorry to stay it is an offer I will not be accepting from you. I am not that type of woman."

"Oh? What type of woman are you?" Charles raised an eyebrow, finishing his wine.

Emilia smirked, "Perhaps you will find out one day."

Charles chuckled, his eyes still fixed on her, "A mysterious one, it would seem."

"Oui."


	2. All The King's Men

**Chapter Two: All The King's Men**

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**A/N: A huge thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed and favourited! We hope you enjoy this chapter :)**

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Charlise examined the men over the top of her fan, a beautiful cream-coloured, black-laced present that Emilia had brought her from France. His Majesty and some of his friends – Charles Brandon, Anthony Knivert and William Compton – had just finished a round of tennis inside the nets. Of course, his Majesty and William had been the winners of the day, for Charlise thought that Anthony was far too polite to allow the King to lose, and Charles far too arrogant.

"My lady." Anthony crossed over to her and bowed his head as she continued to fan herself in delicate motions. There was a grin across his face and a sheen of sweat across his forehead that suggested the tennis had managed to thoroughly exert him.

"It's just Charlise." She laughed a little at his formality. She and Anthony had spoken several times before, but not at any great length until Emilia had come to stay at the English court. Charlise found him charming and well-mannered, not at all like that roguish friend of his, Charles Brandon.

"Very well, Charlise," Anthony conceded, watching her closely. He was twelve years her senior, yet she could not deny that she found him rather attractive.

"How did the tennis go?" Charlise inquired, feigning that she had not shown interest. Of course, Anthony could think she had been talking with Emilia the entire time. He sat beside her and put down his racket.

"The same as always."

"I suppose you are good at tennis," Charlise replied with a small smile, flicking her fan shut with a definitive click.

Anthony nodded slowly. "I am good enough."

Charlise shook back her blonde hair. "I am no good at tennis."

"Perhaps I should teach you sometime," Anthony offered, but Charlise knew her father would disapprove immensely. Tennis was not something for women to participate in. He would rather she spent her days sewing and dancing.

"What else are you good at, Anthony?" Charlise asked. The crowd was beginning to disperse but she remained sitting on the bench beside him. She noticed her father give her a meaningful look before he walked out along with the others.

"Not much, to be honest," Anthony said, raking a hand through his dark hair.

Charlise smiled brightly. "I'm sure that's not true."

"I'm afraid it is," Anthony admitted.

"I am not good at much either," Charlise murmured. She wasn't particularly sure if it was true or not, but Anthony seemed unable to believe it.

"I doubt that."

"I am good at riding, and that's about it," Charlise replied. She only said riding for it was a rather more masculine activity than any of the others she embarked upon. "Are you any good?"

Anthony smiled warmly. "Good enough."

"Why do you look at me so often?" Charlise asked rather boldly, climbing to her feet and observing him carefully. It was true that men did watch her, but it was always only briefly, as though she was a candle that would be snuffed out at any moment. Anthony actually paid her attention.

"Because you are beautiful to look at," Anthony responded, and despite his seriousness, Charlise could not help but laugh. "It is true."

"There are many other beautiful women to look at also," Charlise replied. She wasn't certain whether she liked Anthony's attentions. The last time a man had paid her such close attention, it had resulted in the loss of her virtue – and then he had broken her heart and left her, just like all the others before.

"None so beautiful as you," Anthony insisted, getting to his feet and taking her hand in his, bringing it to his lips.

"What of the Lady Anne?" Charlise drew her hand back. "She is fair."

Anthony shook his head. He found Charlise to be rather daring, but Anne was downright tempestuous. He wondered how such a wild woman had managed to capture the King's attention.

"She is not my type."

"Oh, you have a type?" Charlise questioned rather teasingly, brown eyes flashing, "And what might that be?"

Anthony shrugged his shoulders. "Well, you fall under that category."

She raised an eyebrow. "Why is that?"

"Because you are strong-minded," Anthony replied. Although he would rather have an obedient woman to take to his bed, he was not the sort of man who bedded women with merry abandon such as Charles.

Charlise considered him. "How well do you know me truly, Anthony?"

"I don't know you, but I want to find out," Anthony said honestly. The more he learned about Charlise, the more she seemed to intrigue him. She was a pretty young thing, but there was also a lot more to her than that. She laughed at his words.

"That is sweet."

"It is also true," Anthony insisted, "You intrigue me." He glanced around, noting that they were now alone together. "What are your plans now? Are you planning to do anything?"

Her smile was mischievous. "I don't plan, I simply _do_."

"Would you like to go for a ride?" Anthony asked, as they walked outside into the sunlight. It was a beautiful day, not too warm but without a cloud in the sky. His words caused Charlise to smile innocently as her eyes blazed with amusement.

"What kind of ride?"

He chuckled, understanding the insinuations she was making. "On a horse, Charlise."

"But of course." Charlise inclined her head, flipping her fan open again. "You _are_ gentleman."

Anthony's lips curved into a wider smile. "So I have been told."

"Unlike your friends," she added, distaste beginning to colour her tone. She tilted her head back and fanned herself in an attempt to banish the sun's growing heat.

"Such as Charles," Anthony remarked, causing Charlise's expression to harden somewhat as she stared into the distance, stopping her incessant fanning.

"Yes. Him."

"Shall we walk?" Anthony offered hastily, noticing her change of mood and reprimanding himself on bringing up Charles. He knew the two had history and no doubt Charlise was not comfortable being reminded of it. She took his arm and he smiled.

"Of course." As they strolled through the gardens, Charlise used her free arm to shield her eyes from the sun. "How is his Majesty?"

"He is well." Anthony nodded, glancing down at her. "How is your father?"

"As well as can be expected," Charlise murmured. He had not been pleased with Emilia's arrival in England, wishing that she would stay in France. Charlise understood why, although she was extremely happy to have her younger sister close once more. "Are your parents still alive?"

"No." Anthony shook her head and Charlise's expression immediately became sympathetic.

"I am sorry to hear that."

"They've been gone for a few years," he insisted, waving a hand as though it meant nothing. Anthony had grown much closer to Henry since the deaths of his parents, and he wasn't sure where he would be now in terms of relationships if his parents were still alive. Besides, he was a man in his thirties, and knew that people didn't live forever.

"You should marry and have children," Charlise suggested. She knew that although women married fairly young – she was old to be a maid in truth, although her independent personality often turned men away – men may not marry until they were much older.

"I haven't found anyone to marry," Anthony said. The women of Henry's court were vapid creatures, interested in climbing the rungs of power.

"I suppose hardly any of your friends are married," Charlise ruminated aloud, "No doubt his Majesty will help you gain a wife. Unless you have no wish to marry."

"I will, one day," Anthony insisted. He was happy being an unmarried man, and for now, he had no desire for that to change. He glanced around, realising they had reached the hedge that marked the edge of the King's gardens. "Where would you like to go?"

"I don't know." Charlise withdrew her arm from his. "I am not sure my father would like me out here alone, with just a man for company."

"Perhaps I should walk you to your room and then retire," Anthony suggested, earning a fervent nod from Charlise.

"That might be a wise idea."

* * *

Emilia flicked the page of her book over as she read the words. She was sitting in the gardens under a tree, the sun hitting her through the cracks that the leaves left. There was a slight breeze that blew her hair around her face and she reached up, pushing it behind her ear. It was a pleasant day and Emilia liked having the peacefulness of the place surrounding her as she read, almost lost in the pages and words.

"You didn't come to watch the tennis." Charles Brandon commented, drawing her thoughts from her book and back to reality.

Emilia looked up at him, raising an eyebrow in question, "Was I meant to?"

"Most people do." Charles noted, sitting down beside her.

"I'm not most people." Emilia pointed out, looking back down at her book.

"I can tell." Charles grinned, watching her as she tried to read and ignore his presence, unfortunately failing to do both, and "What are you reading?"

"A book." Emilia answered, closing the book after marking her page.

Charles glanced at the book, unable to read the title, which was gold and written in French. "About what?"

Emilia looked up at him. "Many things."

"Such as?" Charles persisted, although Emilia could not tell why.

Emilia sighed heavily, deciding to give him an answer. "War."

Charles grinned, moving slightly closer to her. "Sex?"

Emilia considered it for a moment before nodding, "That too."

"Surely a young lady such as yourself shouldn't be reading about such things." Charles teased, his eyes raking over her.

Emilia couldn't help the small amount of laughter that escaped her, "Perhaps."

"It will taint your innocent mind." Charles continued to tease her, leaning closer.

"My mind is far from innocent." Emilia told him as she got to her feet.

Charles grinned, watching her. "Oh, I doubt that."

"I should go back to my room." Emilia spoke her thoughts aloud, thinking of the various things she could do within the peace of her room, or perhaps visit her sister.

Charles got to his feet, offering her his arm. "I should accompany you."

"And why is that?" Emilia asked, sighing when Charles winked at her in response. "Come on, then."

A pleasant silence settled over the two as they walked through the gardens and down the stone corridors leading to Emilia's room. It was colder within the castle's walls and a shiver ran up Emilia's spine. She clutched her book in one hand, glancing around. It wasn't as busy as usual and she assumed everyone was either still watching tennis, or was eating and drinking.

"So..." Emilia looked at Charles as his voice broke the silence.

She looked up at him in confusion. "So?"

"What did you wish to...do?" Charles questioned, glancing around the place as if looking for something to do.

Emilia shrugged her shoulders, her hair bouncing as she did. "Go back to my room and relax."

"I can help you relax." Charles suggested, a grin plastering to his face.

Emilia shook her head. He was incorrigible. "I'm sure you can."

"But you don't wish me to?" Charles nodded, getting the message through Emilia's icy tone.

"I don't wish to have sex with you." Emilia told him simply as they came to stand in front of the door to her room.

"Yes you do." Charles argued. Every girl he had ever spoken to in this manner, he had ended up bedding.

"Oh? And you can read my mind now?" Emilia crossed her arms, looking up at him, as they stood face-to-face.

"No. But I know women can't resist me." He winked at her, smirking down at her.

Emilia couldn't help but laugh. "Then why am I resisting you now?"

"Because you think I will chase you." Charles told her, leaning his arm against the wall.

"And will you?" Emilia questioned as she opened her door.

"Perhaps."


	3. Desire Within

**Chapter Three: Desire Within**

Emilia sat and watched Charlise practising the fiddle, an activity that the older Ruston girl seemed adamant at embarking upon. Charlise slipped up a little and frowned, rereading the music sheets and playing the bar again. Emilia was impressed at her older sister's persistence – but then again, Charlise had always been very determined. When she wanted to perfect something, she would continue to strive.

"Do you ever give up on that?" she inquired.

"The fiddle?" Charlise paused momentarily to glance at her younger sister. She held the bow aloft, as though she might begin again at any moment. "No. Why should I? I love playing the fiddle. I've been learning it while you've been away."

Emilia smiled. "You're good at it."

"Thank you," Charlise inclined her head, but Emilia supposed that she was used to such compliments by now. "Do you play any music?"

"Piano," Emilia replied, braiding her dark hair and watching as Charlise put the fiddle down and packed it into its case, neatly folding up the sheets of music. She might be tempestuous and at times even wild, but Charlise was nothing but practical when it came to her fiddle.

"Are you enjoying the English court?" Charlise asked, spinning to face her younger sister.

Emilia shook her head. There was no point lying to her sister. "No."

"Why not?" Charlise's face furrowed into a picture of typical older sister protectiveness. She didn't like being separated from Emilia, but at the same time, she wasn't happy that her sister wasn't enjoying her time in England.

"The people here." Emilia sighed heavily. "Charles Brandon, mainly."

"Oh, that one." Charlise's expression darkened. Emilia knew why. "He is…hmm. How to put it politely."

"Just say it," Emilia insisted.

"He is quite an arrogant bastard," Charlise said, but in French so that anyone passing by would likely not understand the nature of the conversation. They always used to do that as children – they'd speak French in the English court, so that none of the nobles could understand them. Most of the French spoke English rather well, but they still stumbled over some phrases when attempting to keep up with Charlise and Emilia's fluent English. "Has he attempted to seduce you yet?"

"Yes," Emilia stated, causing her sister to roll her eyes. "He failed, though."

Charlise nodded approvingly. "Of course he did."

Emilia frowned slightly. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You are more virtuous than I," Charlise responded with a mischievous smile.

"Is that a good thing?" The dark-haired younger sister inquired.

"Of course." Charlise was known within the court for being – well, not quite promiscuous, but her flirtations were often noted, not least of all by their own despairing father. This caused Emilia to study her older sister, nineteen and unmarried.

"Have you spoken to father?"

Charlise looked a bit taken aback. "About what?"

"Anything. The two of you speak of political affairs often." Emilia had never been close with their father, and now that she was in England away from her mother, she found herself missing France more than ever.

"He says he may have found me a match," Charlise said rather heavily. They both knew what she thought of being shackled into a marriage that she did not have a say in.

Emilia raised her eyebrows. "Who might this be?"

Charlise sighed in annoyance. "He will not say."

"Well, he is a lucky man, whoever he may be." Emilia was slightly troubled. Although their father would not marry her off until he'd found a match for Charlise, if he had found a possible suitor, perhaps he would look at finding her a husband. While he would indulge Charlise, Emilia didn't doubt that his choice of husband for her would not please her.

Charlise laughed, tossing back her blonde hair. "I wonder if the unfortunate soul will think that."

Emilia smiled a little. "Sister, you will make a good wife and mother."

Charlise shook her head. "Not as good as you. You seem…better suited to it."

"Perhaps," Emilia murmured. She wasn't sure what she would be like with a husband, or even with a child.

"Well, I think so," Charlise said, as though that decided the matter for certain.

"There is another celebration to be held soon," Emilia remarked. She had heard excited whispers about it in court, however she could say that she did not greatly anticipate the event. "They are dull here."

"Oh, sometimes they liven up," Charlise said with a smile, waving her hand. Emilia nodded, knowing that if Charlise was in a mischievous mood, the celebrations might liven up quite a bit indeed.

* * *

"I keep seeing you around with the older Ruston girl." Charles spoke to Anthony as the two friends wandered through the gardens. It was a warm day and both were indeed enjoying the heat.

"And I keep seeing you with the younger one. Is she responsible for the bruise on your face?" Anthony questioned. He had been wondering all day who had given his friend the small bruise across his cheekbone.

"Perhaps. I told her something she didn't like." Charles touched his cheek.

Anthony raised an eyebrow. He couldn't imagine the younger Ruston girl getting angry. "About you and Charlise I am guessing."

"Ah, you know of that too." Charles mused, curious as to just how many people knew of his adventures with Charlise.

"Yes." Anthony nodded, glancing around the gardens.

Charles couldn't help but chuckle, "Why, were you hoping you could break her in?"

"No. She just intrigues me." Anthony shook his head.

"She's a bitch." Charles stated bluntly. It was obvious to most that he disliked her.

Anthony chuckled at his friends' bluntness. "To you, maybe. Not to me."

"No, she seems sweet now, but she won't always." Charles warned him. He had already been subjected to her true nature once before and didn't intend for it to happen again. Ever.

"And how do you know that?" Anthony questioned, turning to face his friend as they stopped walking.

"She just wants you to fuck her, Anthony." Charles told him, noticing that his friend was becoming irritated with him, though he didn't quite get why.

Anthony shook his head. "Then I won't."

"Then she will tire of you." Charles told him, knowing that Charlise had only ever wanted to fuck him with no emotional attachment.

"And I will move on." Anthony shrugged. He wasn't one to get too attached to women.

"Ah, so I am not the only one who plays games." Charles raised an eyebrow, surprised at his friends' sudden change.

Anthony shook his head, beginning to walk again. "No, you are not."

"And when you lose interest in her?" Charles questioned, though he doubted his friend would.

"Then I will move on." He told him, glancing at a few women as they walked past them and Charles smiled at them.

"No doubt it will be soon." Charles commented, deciding to change the topic of the conversation. "Henry is having another celebration."

"That means girls, dancing and drinking. You should be excited." Anthony pointed out, grinning at his friend.

"And you." Charles grinned back, knowing Anthony secretly wanted to see Charlise again.

Anthony rolled his eyes. "Of course…"

* * *

Charlise strolled around the gardens with a parasol in hand, fanning herself with the other. Anthony wandered over to her, wondering if some of the things Charles had said about the girl were true. She didn't seem manipulative to him. Sharp and witty, yes, but he didn't think she meant to use him to any end for herself.

"Charlise. Are you well?" he inquired with a smile.

"Very hot," Charlise admitted, and he noticed that indeed a becoming flush coloured her cheeks.

"Perhaps you should go back to your room."

Charlise tilted her head to the side, inspecting him. "Do you wish to accompany me?"

"Alright." Anthony linked his arm through hers. The moment they were out of the sun, Charlise fiddled with her parasol and closed it. They walked up several flights of stairs and through a few corridors until they reached her quarters. Charlise entered her room and visibly relaxed, setting her parasol down, but Anthony remained in the doorway.

"You may enter," she told him, sounding rather amused. She walked over as he glanced around the room. Charlise seemed to favour the colours of red and gold. "You seem restless."

"Do I?" Anthony was a little surprised, for in truth he hadn't noticed.

"Yes." Charlise put her arms around his neck, and Anthony, wondering precisely where this was leading, slid his arms around her slender waist.

Charlise leaned in and kissed him, and for some reason he was grateful that she was rather forward. He kissed back, groaning softly as she ran her hands up his chest. Charlise grinned at him and he pulled her closer against him. She trailed her lips down his neck, nibbling lightly. It was only after a moment that Anthony realised Charlise was beginning to unlace her dress. He rested a hand lightly on her wrist.

"Charlise. I don't want to do this."

"You did a moment ago," Charlise sounded rather annoyed as he stepped back, "Men…"

Anthony shook his head fervently. "I don't see you as someone to just bed, Charlise."

She looked surprised at that. "Then what do you see as?"

"A person," he replied. He knew how Charles viewed women. He had used Charlise, when she had been young, perhaps too young. Perhaps that was why Charlise acted in such a manner, because she believed that she was only worthy of sex to men. She folded her arms and her brown stare was hard.

"A person."

"What did you expect me to say?" he asked, a little frustrated.

"I didn't know what you would say," Charlise snapped, before she turned away from him. "Never mind. I suppose it hardly matters now. So you enjoy kissing me, but you don't want to make love to me? What do you want?"

"You," Anthony replied honestly, causing annoyance to cross Charlise's pretty face.

"No, you obviously do not."

He raked a hand through his dark hair. "Not in that sense, I do not."

"Then in what way?" she asked, growing irritated.

"To court you," Anthony replied, stunning the blonde girl into silence. "I do desire you, I just do not wish to make love to you, yet. Charlise, is it that hard to understand that I do not wish to simply bed you? I would make love to you after marriage, but not before."

"I suppose that makes sense," Charlise conceded, smiling a little when Anthony kissed her cheek but then immediately becoming troubled once more. "Anthony? You do know that I am no maiden, don't you?"

"I am aware of that," Anthony admitted.

"So Charles told you." Charlise's tone became bitter. She should have expected as much. "He is insufferable."

"He seems to have taken a liking to your sister," Anthony informed her, which only served to make her frown deepen.

"That is not good. I don't want him to hurt her."

Anthony realised he'd said the wrong thing. "I'm sure she can take care of herself."

"Perhaps," Charlise gnawed at her lip. "But Charles can charm women."

"She is smart," he insisted.

"And I was stupid." Charlise turned, lacing up her dress and folding her arms around herself. "I do not wish to be your plaything too."

Anthony found these words contradicted her previous actions. "Why do you think I will not make love to you? Because I don't want you to think I see you as nothing more than a plaything."

Charlise nodded, but she seemed uncomfortable. Anthony thought perhaps she wasn't certain of what would happen. She had been perfectly content for him to bed her before, but now she was a little more unsure.

"Do you wish me to leave?" he inquired.

"It might be for the best," Charlise murmured.

* * *

Emilia sat in the gardens, reading through a thick historical text. It was something she had been doing lately to clear her head. She loved getting lost in the pages and words of a book. She found that sometimes she wished reality were as fun and exciting as it was for the characters in the stories she read.

She had begun to read more often in order to keep her mind off how much she was missing her mother. She wasn't enjoying being around her father again. She had always known Charlise was the favourite and it almost felt to her as if her father couldn't bring himself to love her. Sometimes she wondered if it would have been easier had she been born a man.

"That is a thick book." Charles commented, making Emilia look up. She had been so drawn into her mind that she hadn't noticed him approach her.

"It keeps me entertained." Emilia told him as she turned her attention back to the book, flipping the page over.

Charles glanced at the book, noticing that it was in French and not English. "What is this one about?"

"History." Emilia answered, not looking up from her book.

"How boring." Charles drawled, leaning back in the seat, watching her.

Emilia glanced up at him, deciding that she wouldn't be able to read any more of the book while he was sitting there. "It is actually quite interesting."

"How so?" Charles questioned, raking a hand through his hair.

"It is very informative." Emilia closed her book, looking at him. "Is there something you wanted?"

Charles shrugged, watching, as Emilia stood up, "Not really I just noticed you sitting alone. Where are you going?"

"Back to my room. Would you like to accompany me?" Emilia questioned, smiling at him.

"As you wish." Charles got to his feet, offering her his arm.

Emilia smiled as the two walked through the gardens, back towards her room. They both kept quiet as they walked through the halls, winding their way through until they reached her door. Emilia slid her arm from Charles', opening the door to her room and turning to look back at him.

"Would you like to come in?"

"Of course." Charles followed her in as she trailed into her room. "Why did you invite me here?"

Emilia put her book down on the table, beside various other books she had already read. "I assumed you wanted to talk."

Charles nodded. "I did."

"What about?" Emilia questioned, sitting down, pushing her long hair out of her eyes.

Charles shrugged his shoulders, watching her intently as she begun to unbraid her hair. "Anything. I just enjoy being in your presence."

"Why is that?" Emilia questioned, slightly surprised that anyone would enjoy her presence apart from her sister.

Charles sat down across from her, leaning back in the chair. "I just find you interesting."

Emilia couldn't help but scoff. "I'm nothing compared to my sister. She's the beautiful one. She's the best at everything and everyone desires her." Emilia looked at Charles in a confused manner as he began to laugh, "What?"

"EVERYONE desires her...I found that amusing." Charles chuckled, his eyes bright with amusement.

"How?" Emilia raised an eyebrow.

She didn't see how what she said was amusing when it was the truth. It's what she had always been told. Charlise was better at everything than her. Charlise was worth more to the family than she was. Their father would find it easier to find a husband for Charlise. Emilia guessed it was just because Charlise was older, prettier and smarter than she was.

"Because it is far from the truth." Charles answered her, bringing her mind from its internal rant.

Emilia shook her head. It _was _true. "No, it isn't.'

"I am sure you are better at things than her, such as reading." Charles assured her, watching as she got to her feet.

"And how does reading attract a man." Emilia shook her head, letting out a heavy sigh. "It doesn't matter. No matter what I do, she will always be the one that everyone watches."

"Or is that what your father tells you?" Charles questioned, watching as she turned to face him, her dark eyes watching him intently. "I think you listen too much to what your father tells you is the truth."

"I've never questioned him. Every time I do..." Emilia shook her head, not wanting to talk about it. She didn't much enjoy when her father was angry with her.

Charles got to his feet, walking over to her. "What happens?"

"Last time I did I was a child and he sent me to France. Denied me communication with my sister." Emilia told him. Her father had always enjoyed separating the girls to make sure that they didn't influence each other. He also had a habit of manipulating and blackmailing them that if they didn't behave, they wouldn't be allowed to see each other again.

"That seems cruel." Charles commented. He didn't understand how their father could do that to them.

"He is cruel."


	4. Let Go

**Chapter Four: Let Go**

* * *

**A/N: Hey everyone, hope you enjoy this chapter! Things are about to get better for some people, and worse for others...**

* * *

The night was young, and Charlise found there was still much wine to be consumed yet. Henry's celebrations delighted her, for in truth she had once sought attention, sought to flirt and tease and laugh. Now, however, it was only Anthony's attention she craved, and he was drawn to her like a moth to the flame. Charles had warned him that Charlise was capricious and would tire of him, yet Anthony found that the more interested he got in the young woman, the more interest she showed in turn.

"Charlise." Anthony strode over to her, watching as she twirled in her deep blue dress. Many of the women whispered about her, he knew. Some because they thought she was promiscuous, others because they were jealous that she was in the prime of her youth while theirs was fading away. Yet it would seem that Charlise had no care for gossip.

"Dance with me!" She insisted, taking his hands, putting one around her waist and linking the other with her own fingers. He couldn't quite help but smile as she pressed against him, smelling of cinnamon. Charlise spun outwards and then back into his arms, laughing. Anthony saw the King's glance land briefly on Charlise, and wondered if he had ever intended to m ake the young woman his mistress – yet it seemed unlikely. Charlise was too flighty for someone like Henry.

"Come, we should go and get some air," Charlise said breathlessly after they had been dancing for several minutes. Anthony nodded an affirmation. It was quickly clear that Charlise was the dominant one in this relationship, and he found that he had no complaints about the matter at all.

Anthony followed Charlise outside into the gardens. They looked quite spectacular at this time of night, silhouetted by the moonlight and shadows. Charlise took a deep breath and sighed happily, spinning in a circle before flopping down on the grass on her back. Anthony sat down beside her and wondered how he had ever managed to attract the attention of this wild young woman, who seemed to want nothing better to do than indulge in pleasures that life had to offer.

"Anthony?" Charlise rolled onto her stomach, plucking at strands of grass. He quickly found that he had a good view of her ample cleavage, but averted his gaze, knowing that it was not at all gentlemanly to stare at a woman's breasts, even if he was courting this woman. "Is it alright if we kiss now that you are courting me?"

Their courtship was not official, with very people knowing about it. Charlise had wanted to keep it that way until Anthony had asked her father's permission for her hand in marriage. Of course, making love was out of the question, but Anthony found that he would be quite content with kissing her.

"Yes, it's alright."

Charlise grinned mischievously and leaned in to kiss him. Anthony responded with enthusiasm, putting his arms around her waist and pulling her close. He had kissed women before, even bedded women before, but he found he had respect for Charlise, and that kissing her was a completely different experience altogether. She deepened the kiss and moved closer still, rearranging her skirts so that she could straddle his lap.

Anthony's lips found purchase on her neck and Charlise let her head fall back, closing her eyes as he pulled her tighter against him. He nibbled and sucked lightly at the tender skin, and she couldn't quite restrain a soft moan at the sensation. He was twelve years her senior, yet he still managed to inspire want within her, although she knew she could not make love with him until after they were wed.

"Charlise!" The sharp exclamation made Charlise scurry out of Anthony's lap, adjusting her dress and flushing bright red. Her father, Lord Peter Ruston, stood over them with a disapproving frown. He glared at Anthony. "If you will excuse me, Sir Knivert, I must have a word with my daughter."

"Of course, Lord Ruston." Anthony spared Charlise a sympathetic expression before walking back up towards the celebrations, leaving her alone with her father.

Charlise sighed. Usually she was the favoured daughter, yet there was no denying the anger in her father's eyes now. She pulled up her dress so that it didn't reveal quite as much of her chest as she had liked showing off to Anthony.

"What do you think you are doing?" Lord Ruston demanded, scowling at her. "Behaving like a common harlot? I search for you at the celebrations only to find you grinding away in a man's lap outside…"

"We were not _grinding_," Charlise responded coolly, planting her hands on her hips. "We were merely kissing, and there is nothing wrong with that at all."

"That's what you said about Charles," Lord Ruston snapped, bristling at memories four years past, "Before the guards were looking everywhere for you and found him taking his pleasure with you against a wall."

Charlise had the grace to blush. She remembered that incident all too well. Of course, it wasn't the only time she and Charles Brandon had made love – not the first, nor the last. Yet their brief affair had ended quite quickly after that incident. Only Anthony was different, and Charlise hurried to assure her father of this.

"Anthony Knivert is a perfect gentleman, Father. You know that yourself."

"I do." Lord Ruston's voice didn't lose any of its sharpness. "But you, daughter…you are proving yourself to be a temptress, attempting to seduce the King's close friends. Let me make myself perfectly clear: I will not have you becoming a whore for the King's friends, do you understand me?"

Charlise scowled and took a step away from him. Let her father think what he wanted. She no longer cared about trying to prove herself. Just because she had embarked on a brief affair with Charles Brandon – and there were few women at court who hadn't – didn't mean she should be treated as though she was sleeping with all of the men.

"I do believe that Anthony will ask you for my hand at some point in the future," Charlise said curtly, gathering her skirts and sauntering back inside, determined to forget all about her father's negative impact on her mood and enjoy the night.

* * *

Emilia sat in front of the mirror brushing out her long chocolate brown hair. She always found that it gave her a chance to clear her mind and to think. She enjoyed the peacefulness of her room. It reminded her of what it was like in France when her sister wasn't around. The two had been inseparable as young children, until their father had sent Emilia to France. She was drawn from her thoughts when there was a sharp knock on her door.

"Come in." Emilia called, watching the door from where she sat.

Her father, Lord Ruston, opened the door. He strode in with confidence, something Emilia had grown used to associating with her father, as well as arrogance. "Emilia."

"Father." Emilia smiled at him, placing her brush down on her vanity. "Is something the matter?"

"I have heard rumours about you and that Charles Brandon." Lord Ruston examined her room before his eyes settled on his daughter.

Emilia gave him a look of confusion. She wasn't aware of any rumours going around about her and Charles Brandon. "What of us?"

"That you are in a romantic relationship with him." Lord Ruston clarified, sitting down in one of the wooden chairs within the room.

"Yes, it is true." Emilia confirmed, watching her father carefully, knowing that he didn't enjoy surprises.

Lord Ruston could feel his temper rising quickly. Charles Brandon was _not_ the type of man he wanted his youngest daughter involved with. "What? How much have you done with him?"

"My innocence remains, father." Emilia assured him, clasping her hands in front of her to prevent herself from fiddling with them.

"For now. That man is incorrigible, Emilia." Lord Ruston snapped, trying to make the youngest of his daughters see some sense. Sometimes he thought Emilia to naïve for her own good.

Emilia let out a heavy sigh, sinking back down into a chair. She was beginning to feel a headache come on from the argument. "Father, he respects my decisions."

Lord Ruston rolled his eyes. "I doubt that."

"It's true." Emilia countered, gripping her hands tightly together.

Lord Ruston's eyes hardened, his body becoming tense all over. "So what HAVE you done with him?"

"I assure you that I have never done anything more than kiss him, father." Emilia stated simply, her tone becoming short as she began to grow tired of talking to her father.

"Perhaps I should get your sister to keep a closer watch on you." Lord Ruston muttered, more to himself then his daughter, but she heard his words, causing her anger to blossom even more.

Emilia could not understand why her father always treated her as a _child._ For as long as she could remember her mother had been the constant in her life and she was now in a foreign place. It was true she was relying on Charlise to help her within the English court, but she did not want her sister to be constantly by her side. The thought f it made her grow hot with rage, both at her father and her sister, though she knew in her heart it wasn't her sisters fault that Emilia was the younger of the two.

"There is no need. Charles would never pressure me to do something I don't want to do."

"No, but he may charm you into losing your maidenhead." Lord Ruston growled, not wanting his daughters purity to be tainted.

Emilia scowled, the expression making her usually pretty face contort in an unpleasant way. "He won't. Why can't you respect that I care for him?"

"Because he is not the sort of man you should be seen with." Lord Ruston tried to keep his voice even as he spoke to his youngest daughter who was testing his patience.

Emilia rose to her feet, drawing herself to her full height, making her nearly the same height as her father. "I love him. Nothing you say or do will change that."

"Love." Lord Ruston scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "You don't even know what love is at your age."

Emilia clenched her jaw shut, her teeth grating together. "And you still don't know it at your age."

"Marriages don't come about because of love." Lord Ruston explained to her, his eyes full of anger.

Emilia's anger snapped and the younger girl felt a flare of rage within her. "I meant your children! Charlise and I have always been pawns in your game to earn power! I would NEVER subject my child to a life without love! I would love them unconditionally. I wouldn't become an arrogant monster like YOU."

"How dare you speak to me in that manner! Everything I have done is to benefit you and your sister." Lord Ruston was in disbelief of how his youngest child was speaking to him. He could feel his anger bubbling and wanted to do nothing but lash out at her physically, but he knew in his heart he could never bring himself to do something like that to either of his children.

"Of course. You had us separated for ten years! You sent me to France to live with mother because you favoured Charlise more than you ever could favour me! I hate you!" Emilia could feel tears beginning to well in her eyes and she forcefully pushed them down. She needed to control her emotions in front of their father so he did not think her weak.

"Hate me all you want, but I won't see you become a common whore for some 'love' you bear this foolish man." Lord Ruston sat down across from his daughter, watching her intently.

"And what do you suppose to do about it? I will find a way to be with him." Emilia told him defiantly, she had gained her stubbornness from her father and he knew that all too well.

"If you do it, by God, I will disinherit you and give all of your dowry to Charlise!" Lord Ruston yelled, and both of them knew he was capable of doing such a thing.

Emilia watched as her father rose to his feet, her eyes piercing. If looks could kill, Lord Ruston would surely be dead. "Fine! Do what you will! You never cared for me anyway. It would make no difference. You can't even find me a husband because you're so focused on Charlise."

"She is the elder and it is she who will be married first. And she will be now in any case." Lord Ruston told her, his tone having softened somewhat as the argument began to die down.

"To a man she loves." Emilia spoke to herself more then anyone else, but her father heard her nonetheless.

Lord Ruston let out a heavy sigh, not wanting to discuss things with Emilia anymore. "He is not a known womanizer. Anthony Knivert is a gentleman."

Emilia moved to walk out of her room, brushing past her father who was blocking her way.

"You think you can do what you will? I am sending you back to France." Lord Ruston grabbed his daughters' arm, forcing her to face him.

"What?! You can't!" Emilia exclaimed, horror flashing through her eyes. She didn't want to the separated from her sister again.

"I can and I will. You will be lucky to stay for your sister's wedding at this rate." Lord Ruston told her, not pleased with her behaviour. He wished that she wasn't such a free spirit.

Emilia planted her hands on her hips, "And what do you suppose me to do in France?"

"I will marry you to a man more worthy." Lord Ruston explained, for it had been his intention all along to marry her to someone in France.

"Too bad mother never got to marry a worthy man. She got stuck marrying an arrogant bastard who is corrupted by ambition." Emilia countered, knowing her father would pick the highest bidder to marry her off to.

"Say what you will, Emilia. Now you are certainly leaving before Charlise's wedding." Lord Ruston growled, noting how his daughter still seemed to be taking his threats without seriousness.

"Tell that to her and see what happens." Emilia stalked out of the room, knowing that her father would know have to face Charlise's wrath.

* * *

Charlise was practising a complicated tune on her fiddle, oblivious to Anthony watching her from the doorway. She managed to complete the song without faltering once and allowed herself a fleeting smile, before she spun around at the sound of slow applause. Her brown eyes lit up at the sight of Anthony.

"Well done," he praised.

She couldn't help but smile. "Anthony."

He bowed his head. "My lady."

"It's just Charlise," she assured him. Of course, she'd said the same thing before on numerous occasions, but Anthony tended not to listen. He was a true gentleman, far more so than that Charles Brandon who seemed to have taken such an interest in Emilia.

"I know," Anthony crossed over to her in slow steps. "You have told me many times."

She smiled wryly. "Yet you do not listen."

"One of my many flaws when I am looking into your beautiful eyes." Anthony reached forward and tucked a strand of blonde hair behind Charlise's ear. "I tend to become forgetful."

She laughed. "You flatter me too much."

"Is that a bad thing?" Anthony inquired. He truly did find Charlise beautiful, in personality as well as appearance. She was daring and bold and he enjoyed every moment spent in her company.

"You praise me more than I deserve," Charlise insisted.

"But in my eyes, you deserve every word of it," Anthony replied, smiling when Charlise turned an endearing shade of red at his continued compliments. He kissed her cheek, and then addressed the matter he had been bursting with excitement to share. "I spoke to your father. I asked him something important."

Charlise raised her eyebrows, but her heart was beating with excitement. "Such as?"

"I asked him if he would allow me to marry his daughter." Anthony watched as Charlise sucked in a deep breath. "He said yes. So now, I am asking you. Would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?"

"Yes," Charlise tried to contain the pure happiness that was bubbling within her. "Of course I will. You really do want to marry me?"

Anthony's nod was enough and she threw herself at him, kissing him fiercely. He pulled her close and she ran her fingers through his dark hair as he slipped his arms around her waist. Charlise didn't ever think she had been happier in her life. She had succeeded in marrying a man that she cared about, not some old fool her father would have picked out. They drew apart, both practically glowing with joy.

"I love you," Anthony stated, smiling at his bride-to-be. "Are you happy with me?"

"Of course I am," Charlise insisted. She couldn't think of any man who she would rather be. Anthony made her feel alive, he made no attempt to cage her or make her see things his way. He allowed her to be herself, and that was perhaps the greatest thing she could find in any potential future husband.

"Good. I don't want to wrong you."

She tilted her head to the side. "How could you ever?"

"I know not." Anthony smiled and traced his fingers down her cheek. "I just pray I never do. We are to be married within the month, if your father has his way. Are you excited?"

"I am." It was all Charlise could do not to bounce on the balls of her feet like a hyperactive child. "I am certain I shall bear you many sons."

Anthony couldn't contain his smile. "I am certain you will as well."


	5. Wedded and Bedded

**Chapter Five: Wedded and Bedded**

* * *

**A/N: The story has been rated M now, as there is a fair amount of sex scenes in this chapter ;) Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

Emilia hastily wiped at her eyes as she moved down the corridors towards Charles' room. She couldn't help the hysterical sobs that wracked her body, causing her to lean against the wall to catch her breath and steady herself for a moment. Once she had calmed down, she continued her way to Charles' room, where she knocked on the door hard enough to make her knuckles sting.

Charles opened the door; surprised to see her standing there in the state she was in. "Emilia?"

"My father is sending me back to France." Emilia blurted out in a flurry of words, trying to stop herself from breaking down again.

"What? Why?" Charles questioned, letting her into his room before shutting the door.

"Because he found out about us. I don't even get to stay for Charlise's wedding." Emilia bit back a sob, not wanting to seem weak.

Charles pulled her into a hug, holding her tightly against him as she clutched onto him for comfort. "That is cruel. She is your sister."

"He hates me." Emilia whispered into his neck. "I came to say goodbye."

Charles tightened his grip on her. "I don't want to lose you."

"I'm sorry. I never wanted this to happen." Emilia rested her face against his neck, breathing in his scent.

Charles kissed the top of her head tenderly. "Neither did I."

Charles pulled her closer against him, pressing their lips together in a desperate kiss. Emilia reacted immediately, her arms winding around his neck to press herself closer against him. She didn't want to let go of him. Every fiber of her being was yelling at her, wanting her to feel more then just a kiss, but she knew their time together was limited and her father would probably turn homicidal if he knew where she was.

"I have to go." Emilia whispered against his lips, looking up at him.

"You are leaving. Let's just have some time together, for now." Charles kissed her again, this time in a more gentler way.

Emilia pressed closer against him as he pressed her back against the door. She felt like her whole body was on fire as desire coursed through her veins. She wound her arms around his neck, her fingers finding purchase in his hair as he wrapped an arm around her waist. Emilia could feel herself become more daring as she trailed her fingers down his chest teasingly, causing a groan to pass his lips.

"I want you." Emilia whispered, her hands tugging at his shirt, wanting to know what a man looked like unclothed.

Charles grabbed her wrists tenderly, kissing the palm of each hand. "Emilia, are you sure?"

"Yes." Emilia pulled her wrists from his grasp, moving her hands to the laces on her dress.

Charles watched her as she slowly unlaced her dress, her fingers easily pulling at her tight strings. Emilia could feel butterflies in her stomach as she continued to pull at the laces of her dress, eventually undoing it all the way and letting it drop. She couldn't help the slight flush that graced her cheekbones. She'd never been naked in front of a man before, and she couldn't help but shiver as Charles' eyes raked over her exposed form.

Charles moved towards her again, pulling her close against him as he kissed down her neck. Emilia gasped in pleasure, gripping onto his arms, her nails digging in as he nipped at her neck sending pleasure coursing through her. Charles smirked against her neck as he laid her down on the bed, brushing her hair from her face in a tender gesture.

Emilia pulled his shirt off, her hands running down his chest as she marveled at his muscular chest. Charles continued to kiss down her body, nipping and sucking when he reached her stomach, causing her to arch her back and let out a moan of pleasure.

Emilia tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling his head back up to her so that she could kiss him. Charles pulled her closer as he began to undo his pants, drawing away from her for a moment to push them down. He could feel her eyes on him the whole time, until he kissed his way back up her body to meet her gaze.

"This will hurt, you know, Emilia." Charles kissed her cheek, wanting her to take the opportunity to back out if she wanted to.

"I don't care, Charles. I want you." Emilia pulled him closer.

She'd be lying if she said she wasn't nervous, but she cared for Charles and knew that this would be a way to show him how much she cared, as well as defying her father. Emilia bit her lip as Charles pushed into her, and although his movement was gentle, she couldn't help the slight whimper of pain that escaped her lips as he broke her maidenhead.

Charles kissed her neck tenderly. "I'm sorry."

Emilia smiled a little, the pain being replaced with a slight discomfort as Charles began to move slowly within her. She pressed herself closer, wrapping her legs around his waist as he gripped her hips, increasing his speed as she began to moan in pleasure. His lips found purchase on her neck, where he nipped and sucked and he moved deeper within her.

His hands moved from her hips up to her breasts, where he ran his hands over her smooth flesh, squeezing gently, eliciting a moan of pleasure from Emilia as she arched into him. She wanted to feel more. She dug her nails into his back as he sucked at her nipple, his thrusts becoming harder and more erratic.

Emilia could feel the pleasure in her body building, and moaned in frustration as Charles' slowed his movements, teasing her. "Charles…"

Charles smirked against her neck before thrusting into her one last time before the two of them came undone together, gripping onto each other as their orgasm tore through them. As they began to come down from their high, Emilia couldn't help her heavy breathing, smiling as Charles tenderly kissed her cheek.

"Did you enjoy that?" Charles asked breathlessly as he rolled off of her, putting his arm around her tightly.

Emilia nodded, snuggling close to him. "Yes."

"When do you leave? Tomorrow morning?" Charles kissed the top of her head as she rested it on his chest.

"Yes." Emilia tugged the sheet around herself as Charles pulled her closer to him. "I don't want to leave."

"I don't want you to, either. I love you." Charles whispered against her hair, feeling her smile against his chest.

"I love you too." Emilia glanced up at him, her brown eyes wide.

Charles shifted slightly so that he could look at her better, surprised that she hadn't struck him like most other women did when he said that to them. "You do?"

"Yes." Emilia assured him, kissing his cheek.

"Normally I get slapped if I say I love someone. That's because normally I don't mean it." Charles stated, more to himself then to Emilia.

Emilia gnawed at her lip out of a nervous habit. "Do you mean it now?"

"Of course I do." Charles held her close, kissing the top of her head. He knew in the morning that she'd be gone, and that they'd probably never see each other again.

* * *

Charlise sat at the table, enjoying being the centre of attention. The white dress she wore was spectacular, and even Anne Boleyn herself had commented on how lovely Charlise looked. She could not help but smile benevolently at everyone around her, feeling that nothing could spoil this perfect day. Beside her, Anthony placed a hand over hers and she turned to glance at him. There was no apprehension of what was to come, for Charlise was no maiden.

"Would you like to leave?" Anthony inquired. It still felt strange that she was no longer Charlise Ruston, but Charlise Knivert. She was a married woman. The thought made her smile until her cheeks hurt.

"Alright." Charlise clambered to her feet and curtsied to the King, who nodded his approval. Anthony took her arm, leading her from the congregation, while those assembled danced and drank. She was a little disheartened to realise that her father had sent Emilia away to France. It would have been nice to have her younger sister present for the wedding festivities, but when Peter Ruston ordered something, his children obeyed.

"They were all looking at us," Charlise whispered as they walked down the corridor, feeling like a girl whispering gossip to her best friend.

"Of course they were." Anthony looked down at her with a smile. "They were admiring your beauty."

Charlise couldn't help but laugh. "No, that was just you."

"It was everyone, I assure you," Anthony responded, closing the door behind them as they entered his rooms. Charlise glanced around, admiring the rich furnishings and colourful tapestries hanging over the walls. This would be her room too, whenever Anthony chose to bed her.

"Of course it was." Charlise tossed her blonde hair back. "But it doesn't matter what they think. You are going to make me the happiest woman in England."

"I hope so," Anthony replied, watching as his wife started to unlace her dress, mischief dancing in her brown eyes. With most newly-wedded woman there was reluctance, because of the fact that she would lose her maidenhead. But Charlise had not been a maiden for a few years, and Anthony was glad that he would cause her no pain.

He walked over and pushed her hands out of the way, unlacing the dress himself. He pushed it off her and Charlise flushed slightly as her husband examined her naked, curvaceous form. Anthony pulled her close, pressing kisses softly down her neck.

"Beautiful…" he muttered.

Charlise gasped at the sensation, unintentionally moaning when Anthony nibbled and sucked at the tender skin. She responded in turn, raising her hands to tug his shirt over his head. He slid his hands up her sides to grope at her breasts, and Charlise jumped up daringly, wrapping her legs around his waist to keep herself balanced. They tumbled onto the bed, Charlise grinning like a vixen.

Anthony's attentions once more turned to her neck, where his lips found purchase. She laced her fingers in his dark hair as he ran his hand up the smooth skin of her inner thigh, before he drew back to undo his pants and push them off. He glanced at her, and Charlise raised her eyebrows. Was he having second thoughts?

"You're so beautiful," Anthony said huskily, positioning himself over her and bracing his arms either side of her head.

"I'll be even more beautiful when I'm yours," Charlise informed him with a wicked smile.

Anthony kissed her, pushing himself inside her as she moaned against his lips. He gripped her by the hips to hold her in place as his movements became faster, and Charlise's legs found their way around his waist. She arched her back in pleasure, raking her nails down Anthony's back and causing him to groan. With Charles, their sexual encounters had always been too brief and fast. She wanted to take her time with Anthony. She wanted it to be making love rather than just fucking.

Charlise dug her nails into his shoulders, and Anthony's movements became harder. She moaned loudly and threw her head back, her hands tugging at his hair as he nibbled at her neck. His pace quickly altered from hard and fast, and he spread her legs further apart and moved slower and deeper. Charlise's moans encouraged him, before he started moving harder and faster again.

"Fuck…Anthony…" Charlise breathed. "I'm close…"

She ran her hands down his bare chest and Anthony found that he was no longer in control of his own movements, which were now erratic. He slammed into Charlise and she cried out in pleasure, her head falling back as she reached her orgasm. Anthony groaned as he finished inside her, rolling off his blonde wife as she panted in exertion.

"That was…"

"Amazing," Anthony said, putting an arm as she pressed close to him. Charlise trailed her fingers down his chest and he chuckled. "That tickles."

"Maybe I'll keep doing it then," Charlise replied, grinning mischievously.

"Then maybe I should tease you," Anthony stated, trailing a hand up her leg to her inner thigh. She gasped as he slid his hand up further, pushing a finger into her. She couldn't help the moan that escaped her, causing him to smirk.

"You _are_ a tease," she accused, hitting him lightly in the chest. She didn't mind it at all, though. Anthony definitely made her happy, and she found herself excited, unable to believe that she really going to be spending the rest of her life with this man.


End file.
